


The Beginnings of a Beautiful... Something (Probably)

by BasicallyAnIdiot



Series: That Fun!Vampire AU [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire | Pokemon Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire Versions
Genre: Fun!Vampire AU, Gen, HoennChampionShipping, Hunter!May, I REGRET NOTHING, Tradition for the sake of Tradition is a Bad Idea, Tumblr made me do it, vampire!steven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:32:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicallyAnIdiot/pseuds/BasicallyAnIdiot
Summary: There were many traditions in May's family.This was probably one of the stupider ones.





	The Beginnings of a Beautiful... Something (Probably)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been a fan of MayxSteven since I first played Pokemon Sapphire. I didn't pay too much thought to actually writing anything for it because, you know, life. 
> 
> Then Alpha Sapphire and Omega Ruby came out. 
> 
> Long story short, my love of HoennChampionShip returned hard. Then I found My People on Tumblr and there was a prompt for a Fun!Vampire AU with May as a Hunter and Steven as an ancient vampire and 'lo! Here we are!
> 
> I regret nothing.

**The Beginnings of a Beautiful... Something (Probably)**

This vampire was supposedly a rumour, more ghost than apex predator, slipping in and out of her family’s history books like a whisper.

Hair of silver, eyes thought to be a similar colour. A perfect specimen of his kind- all grace and power and death. Potentially an Heir -or perhaps the head by this point- of his clan, though no one in her family had managed to establish which clan he belonged to. The running hypothesis was that he was in a noble house of some sort- one of the ones with a name so faded on The Charter reading it was more guesswork than anything else.

It was a fool’s errand, her father would say with a shake of his head, to think that she would be able to find, let alone catch, this vampire when all others of her family had failed.

“Your great-great-great grandfather couldn’t manage it,” Norman began one day when May made the mistake of working at the kitchen table, “nor could your great-great grandfather, who, I’ll remind you, lost his hand in the process-”

“And my great-grandfather, and my grandfather, and you have all tried it though!” May said, dripping water onto her fine whetstone. “It’s practically a family tradition at this point.”

Her father looked like he bit into a lemon, the stony expression on his face turning pinched from across the small kitchen table of their reasonably small home. Her mother had painted the open-concept kitchen and living room a bright, happy yellow recently, and the smell of paint masked the smell of gun oil. “There are safer family traditions you could explore.”

May snorted and checked the edge of her dagger against the hairs on her arms. It was sharp enough to cut with no effort on her part: handy should she need to shave her legs while on a hunt. “What? Like solo-hunting a band of wraiths for your first hunt?”

Norman’s pinched expression grew pained, “I was young and stupid to have attempted that.”

“You also succeeded in clearing them out.” May countered, checking that her dagger’s counterparts were secured. “As did Uncle James when he hunted down that banshee nest.”

“Your Uncle is also deaf in both ears.” Norman said.

“And he is the best banshee hunter seen in two centuries.” May sighed, turned to sit properly in her chair and face her father, her personal collection of weapons spread out neatly on the table in front of her, “Dad. There are things that go bump in the night out there who don’t obey The Charter. We, as a family, hunt the violators and they all know about us. If I don’t go to get them, they will eventually get me first.

“You can’t protect me forever.”

There was a moment of silence as her father leaned back in his chair to regard her, as if for the first time. Quietly, as if just to himself, Norman said, “When did you grow-up?”

May smiled brightly, “When you weren’t looking.”

Her father stood up, chair scraping against the floor as he did, and he turned towards the wall of shelves that adorned the far wall. He perused the last bookshelf, the newest one with coiled notebooks interspersed with binders and paper backed books. Resources collected within the last generation of the family.

Rumour had it, May’s family had notebooks from the First Hunters- from a time before The Charter- when the world was a much darker, colder place. When humans didn’t dare tread outside after sunset, and missing neighbours were commonplace. May had never seen said notebooks or journals, though, kept carefully locked away lest anyone get any ideas and those days were long ago- a nightmare better off not discussed in polite company.

“Here,” Norman said finally, tossing a coiled book to his daughter. “Those are my notes from that particular research. My conclusion was that if seven generations of this family hadn’t managed to find that fang, he probably doesn’t exist.”

It was a ratty thing, pages creased and folded and a couple were dangerously close to falling out. Coffee stains dotted the cover of the book, her father’s crisp handwriting had crossed out the initial title of “Vampire #1- Name unknown, Clan unknown” and replaced it with, “Reasons to stop believing Grandpa’s stories.”

“You won’t find him,” Norman said with a sigh, sitting back down to his coffee, “But, you need to find that out for yourself.”

“Says you,” May replied, carefully opening the book to the first page- the notes neatly filling the lines on the page, “I’m the first Huntress this family has had in a long time. Maybe I can bring a different perspective to it.”

“Hmm,” Norman took a sip of his coffee, and watched as his daughter began her research, “Maybe.”

May didn’t respond, already too engrossed with her reading.

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

No wonder no one in her family had managed to find this vampire, May mused, turning another page in her father’s notebook. Back at the turn of the century, there was a very brief, ‘unusual fellow attended the Rustboro Ball for the Poor, accompanied by a lovely girl, set the other women whirling in a tissy. I have never seen either at such events, but I would be sure to remember such distinctive hair like silver and blue!’ from her great-grandmother’s notes on the matter, and a couple ‘possible sightings’ over the course of the century. May could just about hear what her hunter ancestor would have shouted when his wife told him who she had encountered at the ball.

The Rustboro sighting was the most definitive clue May had, she would just have to build from it. Her father and grandfather had focused on the vampiress- concluding that she might have been a member of Clan Waterheart- a small and secretive clan on the best of days. Decidedly possible May agreed and she jotted a note down for herself.

But why Rustboro? At the time, the city wasn’t even a town really. It was the kind of place that everyone knew everyone else and their business- a vampire would have had a hard time hiding in such a locale.

Though, when May thought about it, there had been a bit of a rush at the time, though, and the population had a small boom afterwards. The why eluded her- like smoke in hand or a word on the tip of her tongue. May tapped her pencil against her notebook.

Every vampire had its habits and routines; tastes cultivated over time, this one was no different.

Supposing that other sightings were correct, what did they have in common with Rustboro? May pushed away from her desk and paced in front of her map of Hoenn. There was Dewford, and the place that would eventually form into Fallarbor Town, along with Lavaridge and Sootopolis. Another potential sighting placed the vampire in Mossdeep of all places.

She turned and stared at the map, waiting for the answer to jump out at her from among the pins she had stuck into the sightings. It didn’t. It all came back to Rustboro and what was so special about that time and place. What was different?

May sighed. It would have to wait- the sun was setting and Brendan had asked for some help with a potential ghoul problem.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

“You know, what makes you think you’ll be able to track this one vampire down? I mean your dad hasn’t managed it, your grandfather didn’t manage it, and your great-grandfather didn’t manage it either,” Brendan said, his silver-tipped longstaff in one hand- with runes carved into it for a protection spell of sorts. His family was the one to dabble in the magic arts to the way May’s focused on weapons and their practical applications.

He had chosen to forgo his usual attire of thick leather for black sporty pants and a equally black tank-top: he was expecting the need to run, May concluded. Though, the white cap he always wore looked ridiculous with the ensemble.

“Do you really think now is the best time to be discussing my family’s odd and troubled traditions?” May scoffed, straightened her back double-checking that her leather jacket, dyed a pleasant shade of navy that was just dark enough to blend in with shadows, was secured. Roadrash was something she was hoping to avoid. Her denim jeans were equally dark, and her sneakers had been painstakingly covered in black permanent marker much to her mother’s dismay.

“If not now, when?” Brendan stretched and bounced on the balls of his feet in preparation. “I mean, we’re dancing with death here if these are Violators.”

“I think dancing with death is a little too optimistic,” May said, covering the spring-loaded wrist sheaths on her arms. She flexed her hand into a fist, and watched the blade extend out over her knuckles. Relaxing her arm, the blade disappeared back into it sheathe. “It would be more like... pestering death.”

“That’s still pretty optimistic.” Brendan shrugged, “Kind of like the idea that you will be able to find a vampire that no one else in your family managed to. Said vampire could have a crew with him no less.”

“Shut up, Brendan. This is your hunt. Get moving.”

Brendan snapped to attention, “Yes, ma’am.” He turned, swinging his staff into position, and motioned with two fingers to follow. Silently, May did.

Later, when Brendan was recovering from being thrown by the wolf -“That’s definitely not a ghoul, Brendan!”-by rolling onto his back from the sprawled position he had ended up, and between groans that were just as much theatrical as anything else, he said, “You know, I think that Rustboro finished building that tunnel of theirs.”

“Huh?” May should have helped him up. Instead she sat down beside with a huff, a bruised rib protesting her movement. “What are you talking about?”

“Rustboro. That vampire.” Brendan said, groaning once more as he sat up beside her, “It would have been about the time they finish the tunnel to Verdanturf. I think they discovered a new rock while they were at it.”

A vague memory from her school days crossed her mind- had it been a science class? “A new rock?”

Brendan frowned, and he brushed some of the warehouse floor’s dirt from his hair- his cap lost in the fight. “Or it might been gold. Or diamond. Or something.”

She mulled that thought over, and sighed. “I’m going to have to go to the library aren’t I?”

“Better you than me. Now, do you remember where the my staff got tossed to?”

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

The library trip confirmed what Brendan thought, only it wasn’t a new rock that was discovered: it was a mineral, and it was special too because no one thought, prior to that discovery, the mineral could be found in Hoenn.

May hadn’t realized there was a difference between rocks and minerals, but this was apparently a common misconception according the battered mineral book she had found.

Minerals, the book began with on a dog-earred page, are usually defined as a homogenous, naturally occurring, inorganic solid with a definite chemical composition and a characteristic crystalline structure. Minerals could be part of rocks, but rocks could not be part of a mineral. The book descend further into scientific jargon she had forgotten minutes after leaving school. By the second chapter, it had gotten to the point May could only understand every third word, usually ‘the’ or ‘of.’

She ended up borrowing the book, along with a couple others that comprised the section on minerals and gemstones.

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

It was rather foolish, really, how quickly everything came together after that. With the noted exception of Mossdeep, all the locals from the sightings had a noteworthy events- if you were into rocks anyway. If her ancestors all dismissed the other sightings, and just interpreted the Rustboro sighting on its own there was a lot of other big events- a medical breakthrough, the founding of the boarding school May had attended and the Devon Corporation. When compared to the other sightings though, interesting things turned up. Like how fifty years ago, there was a discovery of caves covered in etchings and drawings from an ancient time near Dewford, or the excavation of Meteor Falls near Fallarbor Town.

May tapped her pencil against a page of her notebook. She had included all major geological discoveries in Hoenn from the past century and, consistently enough to be a pattern, the vampire sightings corresponded to most. If she excluded Mossdeep, it was a perfect match. Particularly if she accounted for how long it would have taken a letter to travel across the country and then travel back.

She leaned back in her chair until the front of her chair left the floor to peer at the map on her wall behind her. She relaxed and let all the legs hit the floor, before finally saying, “There’s no way it’s that simple.” It just seemed too… neat.

How could it possibly be that the vampire that had eluded her family for centuries was nothing more than a rock nerd?

Idly, May glanced at a dust-covered black rock sitting on a shelf on her bedroom wall. Rumour had it that the rock was the first meteorite pulled from Meteor Falls- a gift to her grandfather after he saved a miner’s life from a troll in the area.

Right at that moment, that rock looked an awful lot like bait.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

Why her family had an alias for an auction broker, May didn’t know. She also didn’t know that Wally’s family had quite the lofty collection of cut gemstones, both loose and cut, and mineral samples that she could borrow. Or why there was a general lack of dragons on women’s clothing- an issue she had been wrestling with since she was four.

What she did know was that as far as bait went, she couldn’t have done better. She still hated wearing skirts.

But there she was, wearing a nice white blouse, steel grey pencil skirt, and low heeled black shoes, trying to appear as harmless as she could. She even put on pantyhose (no, her mother did not have to help her… much) and left some of her weapons at home.

She had set up the vault, borrowing pedestals and glass cases from the bank as needed to display the different standout pieces- like the meteorite. It was an old style vault, with a heavy iron walls on all sides and a barred gate to keep thieves out and, hopefully, vampires in.

The first three visitors had been duds. Humans, all of them, coming to see the collection. They were going to be terribly disappointed when May called them in a week to announce the family of the late ‘William Geralds’ had chosen to keep the collection in his memory. May only had one more scheduled to come in today. She paused to glance at her watch, and corrected herself: tonight.

He appeared silently at the bottom of the stairs to the vaults, and May would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching the stairs. Though she watched him take steps, there was no click of his well-polished shoes hitting the concrete.

The man was beautiful, tall and slim, and his suit was tailored to fit him perfectly. Silver- or maybe platinum- buttons was a causal display of wealth that May normally associated with Wally’s family. Steel-grey hair, styled into spikes, had to be, matched stormy grey eyes and stood out against the pale, flawless skin.

The Hunter in May was practically screaming at her to grab something to use as a weapon, to get out from the confined space of the vault, and that it didn’t matter if he was pretty enough to make her stomach do flip-flops that man wasn’t a man. May shoved her instincts to the side, taking in the careful, and considerate sniffs the man was doing.

The give-away.

Vampires had other tell-tale behaviours to accompany their inhumanly beautifulness. One vampire trait was that they relied on smell to hunt and suss out danger. While not as acute as a werewolf’s nose, a vampire could smell things like gun powder, oil, and, rumour had it, iron. Things that some Hunters use… but, provided May didn’t handle a gun for a few days before, also what could be expected to be found in old vault made of iron. She hoped.

Apparently satisfied, the vampire took a step towards the vault and May plastered a smile on her face, forcing herself to take a breath. “Good evening,” She greeted, “You must be Mr. Stone?”

His smile, polite and professional, made him, if possible, even more knee-wobbling handsome. May was beginning to appreciate why some humans just throw caution to the wind and go chasing after such creatures. Humans: worse than magpies when it comes to shiny, pretty things. And this vampire was definitely a shiny, pretty thing. “Mrs. Wildgreen?”

“Miss,” May corrected before her brain caught up with her, extending a hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stone.”

His hands were chilled when he gently grasped her’s to shake- someone else would have thought that the cool of the vault was the cause- May was just about ready to turn the handshake into a throw. It would have worked on a wolf: not so much on a vampire.

She let her hand linger, as if she was attracted to the creature the way humans often could be to dangerous things, before dropping it and coughing lightly. “Now then, shall we begin?”

“If you please.” The Vampire responded mildly enough to set even more butterflies loose in her stomach. She resisted the urge to stake the beast out of principle.

“This collection was started by Mr Gerald in his youth, when he was traveling abroad for schooling and built up his family’s already sizeable polished gemstone collection…” Her speech had been practiced over and over in a mirror, then again with the humans.

She was halfway through explaining the significance of a piece of beryl, variation morganite because apparently rocks had variations, when the creature abruptly held up his hand for her to stop. “I’ve read the brochure, Miss Wildgreen.”

Hunter-training was the only thing that prevented her from gapping at the creature. It was the most polite, but rude thing anyone/thing had ever done to her. Fine. Two could play that game.

“Oh? Most excellent. Many of the other collectors required handholding.” May said with a toothy smile. “I’m pleased to meet someone who doesn't.”

Actually, she wasn't lying. There had been a pair of the humans to see the collection who didn't apparently know anything about minerals or gems but were deeply interested in the family the rocks came from. May sent them on their way as soon as she politely could.

The vampire paused and turned to consider her, a faint smile crossed his lips, “The pleasure is mine.”

May returned it with practiced ease. “In that case, was there something in particular you were interested in, Mr. Stone?”

He shrugged, a move somehow made elegant. “I will let you know.”

It was the most painful ten minutes of her life: watching from a corner near the entrance as the vampire slowly, achingly slowly, meandered from one display case to another. It was like he was purposely avoiding the display case with the meteorite, coming so close to it but then sidestepping to a smaller glass shelf beside it. Or backtracking to whatever had caught his attention beforehand.

Finally, though, he approached the meteorite. May spoke the containment circle’s word of power like Brendan had taught her just as the vampire crossed it's threshold, trapping the creature.

She always loved this part. The moment when the hunter suddenly realized it was the hunted. The shocks and anger and, occasionally, fear that played into its expression.

This Vampire didn't show any of the above emotions. Between one blink and the next, he had turned around and placed his undivided attention on her. There was no fear or anger, just a blank face and the creature standing stone still.

May was smiling, she knew it, even as her stomach rolled with butterflies. It was hard not to- her father kept telling her it couldn't be done, the vampire didn't exist- but there he was. Trapped by nothing more than a magic circle.

She shook her head and said aloud more to herself than anyone else, “I can't believe that worked!” Brendan wouldn’t believe this without proof.

The vampire blinked at her slowly, then visibly relaxed, straightening his ascot absently. He coughed lightly, glanced back at the display case and asked, “Does this mean the meteorite is not for sale, Miss Wildgreen?”

May stared at the creature, her jaw dropped slowly. With a shake of her head, her jaw snapped shut. “You’re trapped in a magic circle and you’re asking about the meteorite?”

“It’s a particularly significant piece of geological history that I thought had been lost.” The vampire replied without hesitation, almost scoffing, “Of course, I’m interested.”

“Okay,” May managed after a moment, considering her words as she leaned back against the iron bars. “Well… forget about it for a moment. I have you in containment.”

“I am aware.” The vampire said with a sigh. He ignored her for a moment to walk around the meteorite, leaning to get a better look at the metallic rock. “I’d pay fair market value for it.”

“ _Forget about the meteorite_.” May huffed, picking up her clutch and pulling her hair out of the tight bun she had tied it into. “We can circle back to it.”

The vampire pulled away from the glass slowly, “Very well. What is it you want, Hunter?”

May’s mind blanked at the question, only to réengage at full speed trying to remember what had set her family after this vampire in the first place.

She didn't know.

After all the effort and planning that led to the successful capture of this vampire, she honestly did not know why he was being hunted.

_She didn’t know._

The silence stretched between them. He coughed into his fist, polite enough to hide his laughter, “Hunter, if you don't know why you’ve captured me, can we discuss the meteorite now?”

“No!” May snapped. Her face felt flushed. “And I captured you because, because... it’s tradition in my family to try and capture you!”

The vampire gave up on being polite. Deep chuckles echoed in the room, warm and friendly, and a smile spread beyond what could be hidden by a fist. May’s face flushed an even darker shade.

“Shut-up! Traditions are important!” May could feel the heat on her cheeks, her body almost vibrating with frustration. Out of all the foolish things she’s done-!

The vampire stopped laughing abruptly, coughing into his hand to smother the rest. Within moments his composure regained all the elegance he held walking into the vault. He regarded her steadily. “Traditions are important,” he acknowledged lightly and then chastised, “But I think we can both agree that tradition for the sake of tradition is meaningless.”

“Yeah, well-” May paused trying to dispute the claim, only to grit her teeth. “Whatever.”

The vampire frowned at her ever so slightly but didn't comment. “If you have no requests of me, then can we return to the meteorite?”

A dog with a bone. He was a dog with a bone. May gritted her teeth again. “In a moment.” What to do next then? She didn’t actually have any evidence to suggest that this Vampire had broken The Charter. There wasn't that foul smell of corruption when she focused on the creature, none of mouldy musty air The Charter bestowed on a vampire who violated the statues, or who killed those charged with enforcing The Charter. Or any of the other nuanced crimes May had studied in all the dead languages.

The Charter was very clear on this matter: May had no reason to detain this vampire. To do so would be to violate The Charter and become an exile. She sighed, and mused aloud, “Alright. I’ll sell you that meteorite and let you go on three conditions.”

“Name them.” Came the quiet reply.

May pushed off the bars and carefully walked closer to the circle, stopping a measured step away from the wardline. “First, on your word, do you agree to part ways in accordance with The Charter?”

Storm cloud eyes narrowed slightly, “In exchange for your own word, yes.”

“Done. The second and third are record-keeping related.” She opened her clutch, pulled out a pen and notepad, and faced the creature squarely. “Your name?”

Hesitation. Names had power. Finally, he said, “Steven.”

Off the top of her head, May didn't know of any vampire- noble or otherwise- named Steven. “With a ‘v’ or ‘ph’?” May asked, noting the date of the encounter at the top of the page.

There was a blink. “A ‘v’.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Steven with a ‘v’.” May said absently, pulling something from her clutch and bringing it up. “Now say, cheese!”

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

The camera had taken the creature off-guard, its surprise captured with widening eyes and a mouth parted just enough to show the tips of fangs. Not a thrall then, and likely high enough in the courts to have a presence that could be felt in mirrors and other ripple-catchers.

It accompanied her journal entry of the encounter at the end of her father’s journal, taped in place, describing how she figured out the creature’s habits.

Not a bad way to start her Hunting career.


End file.
